(Where I tread, I leave nothing but dust and darkness. I find that good.)
I see you standing there, confronting me.
It seems that we have reached an impasse, you see.
There's one way forward, just one way to go.
What there is of you mind as made up, and so
Everything embeddded in Excel spreadsheets.
Two thousand clients and your problems are complete.
(I can if I choose, keep you alive for centuries wracked by the most excrutiating pain.)
I don't know what the hell your fucking problem is.
There has a just got to be some better way than this.
(lyrics by Graham Keeling, samples in parenthesis are from Doctor Who - The Pyramids of Mars)